


i don't love you anymore (but i always will)

by actuallysatan (oso_peanutbutter)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a happy ending-freeform, Angst without plot, I have No Excuse, M/M, i shouldve burned this, the happy ending is debatable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oso_peanutbutter/pseuds/actuallysatan
Summary: They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> self care is staying up past 12 ~~multiple times~~ writing plotless divorced victuuri angst while listening to yuri on ice while tears are streaming down your face as you regret your life’s choices.
> 
> (title taken from poison & wine by the civil wars)
> 
> big thanks to judette-mathis for betaing this! ~~imsorrysisishouldveputthisearlier~~

The problem was no one lied. There was no cheating involved and promises remained in tacked. They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers. Their hearts didn’t break, but the feelings of love were gone, only leaving an empty feeling and the sensation of something missing. They tried, tried very hard, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t bring the love back. It was gone, it vanished as quickly as it came like magic.

It went on like this for a year. Stumbling and tripping over the pieces of their relationship, doing their best to keep it afloat, to keep it in tack, but all it did was slip through their fingers like sand. Fights escalated over this, it was to be expected, they were desperate, trying to hold onto their sandy relationship was starting to become impossible. So one day, Viktor left. Packed up his things and left with his dog without a word. Didn’t even leave a note. Just a ring and an empty house and a broken heart. Yuuri curses at him, screaming he should have left crazy glue instead, it would have done him so much better. He swipes the ring off the table and chucks it in a drawer, hoping he’ll never have to see it again. (If only he paid attention to which drawer he threw the ring in, then maybe he would’ve had an easier time).

Days and weeks pass, no word from his ex. Only a manilla envelope with half signed papers and a Russian P.O. Box address. He tosses them onto the table, not wanting to look at them any longer, frustrated that he can move on so fast while he himself is just barely piecing everything back together. (It takes him a full month to read them again, and another two months to sign them. Don’t ask about the return process, he can’t bring himself to talk about it yet).

Several years down the road, and he stands in line at a coffee shop in Detroit, visiting old friends and contemplating a coaching career when he spots him. He wishes he didn’t but the silvery hair is hard to miss, especially on someone as young as he is. He averts his gaze, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It’s too early, he can’t speak face to face right now. He’ll burst into tears and beg a restart but then he’d be just as pathetic as he was when the final nail was slammed into the coffin, in the one fight that ended everything.

He waits for his turn and as he steps up to the cashier, a voice rings out cutting him off of his order. He stops breathing and is afraid to look but does so anyways because no matter how many times he tries to convince himself he isn’t, he’s weak and will always be weak for this man. The man that stole and broke his heart into indistinguishable pieces only to order for him at a local Starbucks like nothing had happened in eight years. He cancels the order out of anger and spite, and leaves the cafe in a huff, silently praying he doesn’t follow. Silently praying the gods will get the message across and for once in his life, he does what he’s told. He makes to main street when someone grabs his arm, pulling him away from the intersection he is about to cross. He turns with venom in his eyes, ready to tell whoever grabbed him off, when his eyes meet icy blue ones. The same ones that used to look at him with all the love in the world that now stare at him with a look he cannot place. (So much for happily ever after.)

“May I help you?” His voice comes out steadier than he thought it would. Maybe he _is_ ready for this. He waits for a reply but gets none as the grip on his arm is loosened until gone completely. Icy blue eyes stare in confusion but he shakes it off.

“Nothing, just—nothing.” Viktor turns back towards the direction he came, and Yuuri stares at his back with a look mixed with befuddlement and anger. 

Pure anger. He grabs his arm and drags him to the nearest alleyway, slamming him against the wall of the nearest building. He glares at him and spits out, “What the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s been eight years and now you want to speak. What do you want, Viktor?”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t care. He’s done, done with missing him, done with this broken heart of his. He just wants closure; he wasn’t expecting it before, but now that he’s here, he might as well get it. He needs to know, if what they once had really was temporary. Viktor stares at him with wide eyes, surprised at his language, but he keeps his cool. “I just—I—I don’t know.” Yuuri grabs his collar and brings him down, their lips inches apart. It’d be so easy to kiss him right then and there, but he restrains himself, keeps himself strong.

“I don’t have all day.” He lets go of his collar and folds his arms across his chest. 

Viktor adjusts his shirt and clears his throat. His next words get stuck in his throat but he says them anyways, “I just—I had the sudden urge to speak to you. That’s all.” Yuuri stares at him in disbelief, and shakes his head. He chuckles under his breath, places a hand over his mouth to keep them from spilling out, but it ends up in vain. The chuckles escalate to giggles to laughter loud enough to attract a few stares. He hunches over, his sides hurting from laughing so much, but he can’t stop. It’s as if what Viktor said opened up a box of emotions he kept hidden and the only way he can deal with them all is by laughing his ass off.

Viktor stares at him befuddled, not entirely sure what to do so he keeps silent. Yuuri finishes laughing moments later, even though it feels longer than that, and stands up straight, hoping he can put his incoherent thoughts in order. He looks into Viktor’s eyes, malice gone, replaced with something softer. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.” He wipes the tears from his eyes, “You never fail to surprise me, Viktor.” Yuuri gives him a small smile, and Viktor stares at him, gaping not sure what to say (he never thought he’d get past ‘hello’ or ‘it’s been a long time’) so he opts out of words and hugs him instead, hoping it’ll be just as effective. Yuuri stiffens, not expecting this and was hoping for a worded explanation, but for now takes what he can in this moment and melts into his arms. In this tiny moment, he feels twenty-four again and wishes naively to a small deity that this lasts longer than a minute.

Viktor pulls away, too quickly and too soon and Yuuri’s heart drops at the lost of contact, wanting to stay in his arms forever, but steels himself up for reality. Cursing himself for the hope, he braces himself for the inevitable good-byes and farewells, knowing he’ll never see Viktor again without the help of luck. He takes a step back, or tries to but he can’t. Viktor still has his arms around him, even with the space between them. He doesn’t seem to be planning on letting go, and Yuuri can’t decide if he likes it or thinks it’s selfish of Viktor to do so. Yuuri places a hand on Viktor’s forearm, the right one, then one on his waist, and squeezes it, hoping Viktor will get the message and let go. He loosens his grip, but keeps his hand there.

“I want to show you something.” Viktor’s voice is delicate and he keeps his gaze down on his shoes. “I _need_ to show you something.” He corrects himself, still not looking at Yuuri. He does nothing to hide his want, he feels it’s now or never, and with someone like Yuuri, it’s best to do it now. Yuuri swallows down his tongue and pride, and nods. Viktor doesn’t see Yuuri’s response with his head down and hair in his eyes, so Yuuri repeats his answer verbally. Viktor lifts his head, gives a small smile, and drags Yuuri back in the direction they both came from. Yuuri trudges along, trying to keep up with Viktor, his pace rushed and desperate with a pinch of fear mixed in. Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s hand only tightens as they maneuver their way across the bustling sidewalks and busy intersections.

Viktor slows down where Yuuri presumably guesses is their destination: an ice rink. Yuuri tightens his hold on Viktor, and finds it hard to breathe. He gulps down his anxiety, telling himself there’s nothing to be worked up over, and follows Viktor in. The rink is empty, the few staff members there idly stand around, paying the two of them no mind as they pass on by.

Viktor only lets go of Yuuri’s hand when he reaches the benches. He laces up his skates, quickly and methodically, and not once looking at Yuuri. Yuuri stands there not sure what to do as Viktor gets up from the bench, his blade guards resting on the bench and walks over to the rink’s entrance. He glides to the center and turns to face Yuuri.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.” is all Viktor says before he starts. He starts by lifting his hands and looks up to the ceiling, and starts to glide across the ice, moving his hands back down. Even with no music, Yuuri immediately recognizes those moves. His breath is stuck in his throat as he watches Viktor skate his old free skate program.

The one he discarded along with the ring all those years ago.

Yuuri watches in silence as Viktor transitions from jump to spin to another jump. The lump in his throat gets bigger as Viktor moves into the step sequence showcasing his inner turmoil, frantically gliding across the ice. Yuuri almost bursts into tears when Viktor lands the quad flip cleanly as he did in his prime. One last combination spin and then the final pose, but instead of facing Yuuri, Viktor faces the side wall, so his left outstretched hand is pointed at Yuuri.

He starts running. Not away from Viktor. He slips and almost hits the ice, but regains his balance. Viktor meets him halfway, like old times.

“How long?” Yuuri questions.

Viktor stares at Yuuri.

“How long what?” Yuuri looks down at his hands for a bit, but then lifts his head and looks into Viktor’s blue, blue eyes.

“How long did you wait to show me?”

The question catches Viktor off guard. If he’s honest with himself, he should have expected it, but right now, he doesn’t want to be, even though it matters. He looks down and sees Yuuri expecting an answer and he curses to himself for being so slow. He fumbles with his answer.

“I—I’m not sure.” He scratches his cheek. “I ended up watching your old routine online and I had the urge to do something. I didn’t know what at first, but then my mind went back to that video of you skating my old routine and it hit me. At first, I was going to record it and post it online, but then I decided I didn’t want to live without the knowledge of what you thought of it. So I made the rash decision to show it to you in person.” He stops to breath and launch into a long-winded story of flying back to Japan only to find out he moved out and changed his number and has no contact with anyone save for a few close relatives and friends, but he doesn’t. His voice gets stuck as he sees the tears falling down Yuuri’s cheeks like summer rain. Viktor swallows thickly, and very carefully, reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y-You stupid, stupid, stupid man,” Yuuri’s voice is shaky, and Viktor can only smile at that. Yes, he is a stupid, stupid, stupid man. However Viktor still loves his man, even if time wasn’t kind to either of them. He’s willing to trade those eight years they spent apart after their break-up just to turn back the clocks and make everything right again, but time doesn’t allow returns or exchanges.

Viktor cups Yuuri’s face in his hands, and brings their foreheads together. “Yes, I am. But I’m yours if you want me.”

Yuuri steps back, as much as he can given his current location, and takes a deep breath.

“Time, Viktor. Give me time. You don’t have to do anything else. In fact, I don’t want anything else. Just. Time.” The last two words come out harsher than he wants, but he knows he got his point across.

“Of course.” Viktor slides up to Yuuri. “On one condition.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“You give me your number.”

Yuuri bursts into laughter, and feels that they might be alright this time around.

 

_Oh, please, fate. Let us have another chance at forever. Time wasn’t kind the first time._

**Author's Note:**

> does russia even have po boxes? 
> 
> (come scream at me about victuuri or how shitty this fic is @ stepping_stein on twitter or @mkazukikun on curiouscat)


End file.
